


Tropea

by epeeblade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Italy, M/M, Pre-Avengers (2012), at least they get to have sex, mission!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeeblade/pseuds/epeeblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil are sent to Italy for what should be a quick and simple mission. Things don't exactly go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tropea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perletwo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perletwo/gifts).



> Thanks to lapillus for the beta, though all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> And thanks to perletwo for the prompt! I hope you like the fic!

A drop of sweat beaded at the back of Clint’s neck. He was too disciplined to wipe it away, but Jesus shit fuck if he didn’t want to. Sure, being sent out to the Mediterranean for a job was great, but not southern Italy in the height of summer. 

At least there were plenty of places to hide in the mountains the city was built into. Clint had himself tucked into a crevice underneath a road, with a perfect sight of the cafe through his scope. It was a little far to make the shot, but he also knew his own skill level. This wasn’t going to be a problem.

If his target ever showed up.

“Hate to tell you, sir, but I think we were stood up.”

“Not the first time that’s happened.” Phil’s voice in his ear was warm. “I’ve got eyes on the ground.”

“I got you.” Because the first thing Clint made sure of was the location of his SO in the field. Phil had stepped into the crowd looking over the railing at the sea and the island beyond it, where a stone church stood sentry. He was far enough from the cafe to be out of danger, but close enough to run the op.

There was more than one reason Clint was itching to get this over and done with. They had a rule - no sex during an op. Once it was over, then all bets were off. Clint couldn’t wait to get Phil naked in that fancy villa they were using as a safe house.

“Bad intel?” Clint suggested. It wouldn’t be the first time. This was supposed to have been a milk run, but they never got so lucky.

“The intel was good. But it might need updating.” Coulson turned away from the railing and melted into the crowd on the city streets. 

“Sir? You’re out of visual range.”

“I know, Barton. I’m gathering intel. Stay in position. There’s still a chance our target might show.”

Clint swore under his breath. “Damn it, Phil, I’m the one who’s supposed to be in the line of fire.”

“Who said anything about fire? Radio silence, Barton.”

“Fuck.”

***

Phil slipped in among the tourists cruising the streets for market day. He didn’t typically interfere like this - his role here was strictly handler - but they’d been given this mission as a sort of reward after a series of difficult ones in the Middle East and Russia. Italy alone would have classed as a vacation, never mind the gorgeous shore town of Tropea. 

Shame that a city of such beauty would have such ugliness hidden within it. Their target - Vincenzo Delessio - was not only a drug dealer, he was funneling his money into terrorist groups as well. He just happened to own a villa here and normally took his coffee every morning at the same cafe.

Delessio hadn’t shown for the past three days.

In Phil’s experience, creatures of habit like their target didn’t just change their patterns without a reason. Something was up. And if this mission was to be successful, Phil needed to get updated intel. He knew just how to do it.

On Tuesdays, the villa’s housekeeper - Marta - went to the market for some fresh produce. Phil had carefully cataloged the movement of each member of the household. It would not do, for example, to catch Delessio when he was surrounded by his body guards. 

As he walked through the crowd - a mix of tourists and locals - Phil changed his posture. He tugged off his tie and shoved it in his pocket, loosening the top buttons of his shirt. The suit was light linen, in deference to the weather, but it still looked a little formal. Phil couldn’t ditch the jacket since he was carrying. Hopefully by affecting a loose gait and ruffling his hair, he would blend in a bit more.

Just as he caught sight of Marta ahead of him - exactly where she should be at this time of the morning - Phil pulled out his phone and pretended to be engrossed. It served as perfect cover as he ploughed right into the harried housekeeper, knocking her purchases all over the street.

“Ah, scusi!” He apologized, affecting the exuberant mannerisms of the Italians. “Allow me to help you, senorina.” 

She blushed and then corrected him. Phil knew it was a dirty trick, calling a clearly matronly woman ‘miss’ as if she were a teenager. It was an old con man’s trick that worked perfectly well for secret agents too.

“Grazie,” she said as he picked up her bags and spilled purchases.

Phil didn’t give them to her. “Let me carry this for you. It’s the least I can do.”

She paused and searched his face, looking, he assumed, for ulterior motives. Finally, she nodded. “Let’s go. This way.”

Phil allowed her to lead him through the streets, keeping up a gentle chatter the entire time. The point was to get her to lower her guard. He mentioned what a shame it was that he only came to Tropea for business. “Your city is so lovely. Have you lived here your whole life?”

“Si, it is my home.”

“Must be a hard place to make a living.” Phil gave her his most innocent smile. “Do you work for one of the hotels?”

She bristled, as he had intended. “No, I work for a private household. My employer is currently away on business.”

“Oh?” Interesting. 

Phil walked her to a crossroad, where she pointedly took her groceries and stomped off. He let her go. “Hawkeye, pack it up and meet me at the safehouse. The target isn’t going to show.”

“Got it, boss.”

***

“Away on business? What the heck does that mean?” Clint paced the length of their villa, every so often peaking out of the windows to watch the street below. The bedroom came with a lovely view of the sea, but Clint had kept his gaze on the front, wary of discovery. 

Phil sat at the dining table, scanning the intel on his laptop. “It could mean he’s away talking to various contacts. However, there haven’t been any flight plans made in Delessio’s name for the past four months.”

“Maybe he got into a car and drove.” Clint flopped onto the couch - a gaudy thing in peach and sea foam green. It seemed out of place among the polished marble floors and gorgeous carved wooden tables. The owners must have liked it, despite the clashing. Clint would have preferred one in purple.

Phil pulled on his reading glasses. He had several sets made up in the same prescription, just in case one got lost or broken on a mission. Clint himself was the cause of a few of those breakages. He couldn’t help himself - Phil just looked so darn hot behind those black frames. 

“The last time we did a reconnaissance of his house, both of his known cars were still in the driveway. This is downright odd.”

“Think he knew we were on his ass?” That would pose a problem and meant SHIELD might have a leak. Not good.

“I think we need more intel.” Phil looked at his watch. “In an hour the entire town goes on siesta. It’ll be the perfect time to get in the villa and take a look around.”

Clint could get used to the idea of a place where everyone took afternoon naps. However, “I’m not set up for an infiltrate.” 

Phil gave him a smile. “I’m going to be the one doing the infiltrating. You need to be my backup.”

At first Clint thought he was joking. That wasn’t the way things worked. Clint went into danger and Phil had his back. “You’re serious?”

“I am still field rated, Agent Barton.” Phil pulled off his glasses. 

No kidding. Clint knew Phil was a badass. He just didn’t like the idea of being out of the line of fire when Phil was still in it. “And you really think the best time to do this is three in the afternoon?”

“It’s really the only time everyone in the city will be asleep. The only ones wandering around will be clueless tourists confused when all the stores are closed.”

Clint still wasn’t completely sold on the idea. But if Phil wanted to go in, then Clint was damn sure he was going to have Phil’s back. He didn’t trust anyone else to do it.

***

Delessio’s villa was set off from the street by a long drive. Phil had the blueprints memorized, although he was prepared for the possibility of a unmarked panic room or something of the like. He’d left Clint at his perch. The nice thing about this region being so mountainous was that there were plenty of places for Clint to hide. This selection should allow him to see directly into the villa, and be close enough should Phil need his assistance.

There were no guards at the gate. However there were two security cameras sweeping from side to side. Rookie mistake. That meant there were times when the front of the gate was not covered by either camera. Phil counted in his head and moved.

It was like a dance, skimming along the path, just out of sight of the electronic eyes. He got to the front of the gate, where a card swipe system awaited him. Once again, Delessio should really have upgraded his security system. This one was several models outdated, and could be easily hacked with a special card coded with a viral program that let Phil input any four-digit code to be let inside.

He chose Clint’s birthday, just for shits and giggles.

Phil might be having a bit more fun with this than strictly reasonable. Despite his hard-nosed, straight-laced reputation, he had a secret fantasy that he indulged in often, of being an international jewel thief, with Clint at his side. The fantasy involved Clint in a tux, and Phil playing cat and mouse with a suave FBI agent. 

He admitted he might enjoy heist movies a bit too much.

The gates opened, and Phil slipped inside, closing them behind him. There was a moment of tension as he ran through the open courtyard. But there were no signs of any guards or dogs. 

“Maybe he isn’t home,” Clint commented in Phil’s earpiece. “Place looks deserted.”

“Everyone is napping,” Phil murmured as he scaled the wall to get to the balcony where he could see two glass doors slightly ajar. Considering his mental picture of the blue prints, this should be the front office. 

Inside it was just as he expected: neat desk, rows of bookshelves, some wicker lounge chairs, and a liquor cabinet. He took a moment to inspect that and found it filled with wine and grappa. Of course.

Phil went back to the desk and powered up the computer. There wasn’t a password required, which made him doubt he’d find anything useful here. The first thing that popped up was a windows update box, which told him the computer hadn’t been turned on in a while. Their target obviously hadn’t been here in a while. Time to check out the rest of the house.

“Going deeper inside,” he told Clint. “Maintain radio silence.”

“Yes, sir.” Clint did not sound happy. Phil hadn’t expected him to.

He made his way through the rest of the villa, searching for any clue where Delessio had gone. There wasn’t an itinerary anywhere, nothing so much as a note. Phil found nothing more than a fully stocked fridge - who was eating the food if Delessio was out of town? - and a home dusted and polished to perfection. The housekeeper kept herself busy.

Phil needed to go up to the bedrooms. He’d have to be careful, because the housekeeper and guards did have rooms inside. But he wanted a good look at Delessio’s sanctuary. Unfortunately it was at the back of the house, overlooking the ocean. He’d be out of sight of Clint and his backup.

Moving skillfully up the stairs, Phil crept down the hallway, holding his breath every few steps to listen hard. He found the master bedroom and opened the door, wincing at the click of the lock. 

The bedroom looked frustratingly normal. The bed was perfectly made, the pillows fluffed and the furniture dusted. Phil opened up the closet and frowned at the rows of neatly folded clothing. There didn’t look to be anything out of place, not like someone had packed for a long trip. Searching, he found a gun in a lockbox under the bed. Wouldn’t Delessio have taken his gun?

He froze as the door to the bedroom clicked open.

“Thief!” The housekeeper stood there, a gun much too large for her in her trembling hands.

Phil raised his arms and attempted to smile. “No. I’m not a thief, Marta.”

“You,” she breathed.

“Me.” He felt the smile coming easier now. “I’m not here to rob you, Marta, and I’m not here to hurt you either.” Repeating her name would imply familiarity that wasn’t there, and should soften him in her eyes. 

“Why are you here, then?”

“Your employer is a very bad man, Marta.”

She snorted. “You think I don’t know that? Who are you? Interpol?”

“Yes.” Phil nodded. It was easier than explaining SHIELD, which went so under the radar it would mean nothing to her. “We’ve come for Delessio.”

“You’re too late.” Her hands started to shake and she put down the gun. “He’s dead.”

Well. Phil hadn’t expected to hear that. “How?”

She looked to the left, a sure sign she was lying. “It was an accident.”

“I very much doubt that.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “He was an evil man. The things he did to this city! With those drugs, and the garbage…” Marta began to gesture with her hands, which wouldn’t have been that bad except that she still held the gun.

Phil didn’t blame her. He didn’t think Delessio made a good employer either. “What did you do with the body?”

“The sea took it.”

That meant it would be washing up somewhere any day now. Phil made a mental note to have the Mediteranean office look out for it. 

“Look. Your boss was an evil man. We can help you - we can protect you.” He got to his feet and stepped closer.

He could hear the sounds of a commotion in the hallway. What was going on? Phil looked at Marta and saw her expression stiffen into something fierce and ugly. Where had the tears gone?

Marta raised her gun, and all signs of her shaking hands had disappeared. “No, I don’t think you can.”

Phil leapt out of the way as she fired. He reached for the first thing at hand which turned out to be the gun lockbox he’d been examining when she barged in. Phil flung it in her direction, satisfied when it knocked the gun out of her hands.

The door slammed open, revealing Clint on the other side like some kind of avenging angel. He held the tranq gun in one hand and fired at Marta without even blinking. She went down.

“Sorry, sir.” Clint shrugged. “Right after you went radio silent, I saw this one gathering up the bodyguards. You weren’t as stealthy as you thought.”

“That’s why I had you.” Phil frowned. “Did you leave any of the guards for me?”

Clint smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, sir.”

“Then I think we need to check out the housekeeper’s room.”

It didn’t take long. Phil found evidence in spades, including a few kilos of heroin, and record books with notes in different handwriting. It looked like Marta was trying to take over her boss’s business. 

Clint made faces at the stash. “What are we going to do? We don’t have a kill order on the housekeeper.”

Phil sighed. He always hated dealing with local police, but it looked like this time they had no choice.

***

It had been dark for a while before they got back to their own safe house. Clint felt drained, and he wasn’t even the one who had to deal with the local authorities. That had been all on Phil, and it had been truly magnificent to watch. Phil had talked circles around the carabinieri, looking so incredibly competent and hot. Clint was glad he didn’t have to talk, because he was sure the only thing out of his mouth would be drool.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Clint tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom. “Join me?”

Phil threw him a sweet smile. “Gotta get this report in to HQ first, let them know so they can deal with the Italian government.”

“Priorities.” 

“I’ll be there when I’m finished. Don’t forget to turn the hot water heater back on when you’re done.” Phil made a beeline for his laptop.

That was one of the weirdest things about the bathrooms over here. The water heater was right on the wall, and needed to be switched off for safety while showering. However if Clint forgot to turn it back on again, he’d be taking cold showers until it heated up. 

He stripped down, leaving his clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor. They needed to be washed, and Clint paid much more attention to his weapons, which he’d cleaned and packed away during the police interrogation. It was a good thing he’d decided to pack the tranq gun, an impulse he’d had when he’d learned there would be civilians around.

The water was hot on his skin. Clint closed his eyes and let the warmth soak in. Arousal fluttered in his gut and he let it, knowing that the mission was done, that Phil was his for the night. He curved his fingers around his cock and stroked it. “Soon,” he promised it, then laughed, knowing what Phil would say about talking to his dick.

Clint finished up and avoided his erection, since he wanted to save that for Phil. He toweled off quickly, remembering to turn the water heater back on before he left the bathroom with nothing but a damp towel around his waist. 

He found Phil in the bedroom, standing beside the bed, his hand at the knot of his tie as if just about to loosen it. Clint swallowed. He might have a thing for being nearly naked around a Phil who was still all dressed up.

“I was just coming to join you.” Phil’s eyes raked over Clint’s body.

He might have cocked his hips to let the towel drop just a shade lower. Clint grinned as Phil licked his lips. “We can shower again later. I’m about to get you all dirty.”

Phil stepped closer, a filthy look on his face. Clint couldn’t help but grab the ends of his tie and pull him closer. Their lips met in a frenzy, Clint unable to contain the pent up frustration after days of being so close to Phil, but holding himself apart. For a moment it was clumsy, all lips and teeth and too much tongue. But then they found their rhythm. 

Clint drank of Phil, tasting him, catching the rich herbs from dinner, and the simple essence of Phil. He’d never get tired of this, kissing his lover, letting the world fade away until there was nothing but him and Phil.

Phil kissed down Clint’s jaw, pulling away long enough to shrug off his jacket. 

“Don’t rush,” Clint told him, running his fingers down the length of Phil’s tie - it was the grey and violet one, which Phil only wore when it was time to wrap up an op. It had an almost pavlovian response in Clint - seeing it meant he was getting laid soon.

His cock swelled in response, the rough fabric of the towel almost too much against his skin. 

“My clothes eventually have to come off.” Phil grinned.

Clint couldn’t help but kiss him again, drawing Phil down by the back of his neck and pressing their lips together. He’d have Phil just like this, in his suit, while Clint lay spread out naked before him. “Lemme blow you.”

Before Phil could protest, Clint dropped to his knees, pressing his lips against the crotch of Phil’s trousers. He breathed in Phil’s musk, the scent only making him harder. Phil’s fingers found their way into his hair, and Clint moaned at the sensation. 

He tugged at Phil’s zipper with his teeth, knowing the effect that had on Phil. Clint used his hands to pull Phil’s cock out, pleased to find it rock hard. Phil made a sound above him, something between a moan and a whimper. It turned into a gasp when Clint sucked in the tip.

“Clint, Clint, I want to fuck you.” 

Clint shuddered. His entire body thrummed. “Yeah.” He stood, leaving the towel on the floor. Time to get those buttons undone.

They both went for Phil’s shirt, and honestly it probably took longer the way their fingers kept tangling together. Clint laughed when he realized that neither of them thought to remove Phil’s tie first. 

“Let me,” Phil told him, gently detangling Clint’s hands from the smooth silk. “You get on the bed and prep yourself. I want to be able to slide right in.”

Fuck, nothing got Clint going like Phil’s dirty talking. There was something about filthy words coming out of that cultured mouth.

“Lube?” Clint didn’t want to waste any time.

“Under the pillow.”

Clint dived on the bed and pulled out the tube of lube and a foil packet. He loved being with a man who was always prepared. The lube was cool between his fingers, and Clint rubbed his hands together to warm it up. 

Head down, he spread his legs and probed for his hole. Clint was tight - it had been a while. Stupid mission taking longer than it should. He grabbed some more lube, just to be sure, and started to work himself open.

When he finally looked up, Phil stood nude at the foot of the bed, his face flushed, and the tie still between his hands. “Sir?”

“I think that is quite enough, Hawkeye.” Phil advanced, climbing on the bed. Clint backed up, but not too far as Phil crawled between his thighs. He looped the tie around Clint’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Feeling kinky tonight.” Clint grinned against Phil’s lips.

“Every night.” Phil caught his arms beneath Clint’s knees and tugged them up and out of the way.

Clint wasn’t always a big fan of doing it face to face - he liked nothing more than being put on his belly and being made to take it. But there was something about watching Phil’s face as he came apart above him. Getting to kiss while Phil was deep inside him was a bonus as well.

“Okay?” Phil asked. He always asked.

Clint nodded and bit his lip as Phil slid inside him. For a moment it felt like too much, like he wouldn’t be able to take all of Phil. And then the pressure gave way to something wonderful. 

Phil’s lips were on his neck and Clint’s hands grasped onto bare skin. He could smell sweat and arousal between them as Phil rolled his hips, slamming Clint into the bed. It was good, damn good.

“Give it to me,” Clint demanded. The silk of the tie shifted around his neck as Phil moved, and it made Clint shudder all over. 

“So pushy.” Phil slowed his thrusts, but they were deeper, harder, more intense.

Clint liked this, the slow, deep fucking. It made him feel like Phil was going to stay, even if that was just an illusion, it still felt like Phil could fuck him forever.

But all things ended. Phil’s fingers found Clint’s cock, slippery with sweat. Clint almost didn’t want to come. Phil twisted, his grip expert and sure, despite rapidly chasing his own climax. 

“Phil, damn it.” Clint buried his face against Phil’s neck, holding on as his orgasm rolled over him.

Phil stilled. “Okay?”

“‘m okay.” Clint didn’t know if he was making sense. He patted Phil’s shoulder, letting him know it was truly okay.

It didn’t take long before Phil shuddered and moaned his own completion. He fell onto Clint for a moment, nuzzling at Clint’s jaw before carefully pulling out. Clint melted into the pillows, watching as Phil got up, took care of the condom, and disappeared into the bathroom.

He must have dozed off, because when he opened his eyes, Clint was warm, clean and had a Phil pressed against his side. “Mmm, when’s our flight?”

Phil kissed him. “Not until tomorrow night. Plenty of time for us to go skinny dipping in the Mediterranean.”

“You’d never go skinny dipping.”

“And for me to take you out for the best cappuccino this side of the mountain.”

The cappuccinos were particularly good. Clint had worried he was getting addicted. “Two cappuccinos. You owe me for scaring the crap out of me.”

“Clint.”

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Clint sat up. “When I lost eyes on you, that was the worst I’ve ever felt.”

Phil didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he laced their fingers together and rubbed his thumb back and forth against Clint’s wrist. “I’ve heard that happens when you love someone.”

The back of Clint’s head prickled. They’d never said it before, never needed to. “Maybe.”

“Don’t you think I feel the same when you’re in the field?” Phil pulled Clint back down so they were honest to goodness cuddling. 

“How do you deal?” Phil was always so cool, and though Clint knew better, he envied that spirit of calmness.

“I trust that you’re the best out there. And I reserve time to freak out, privately.” Phil snaked a hand across Clint’s torso, moving dangerously low. 

Clint laughed. “Already, old man?”

“I think it’s the sea air.”

Clint rolled and tumbled Phil to the bed. This time it was his turn. Time to really enjoy their ‘vacation.’

end


End file.
